


Hold Me Until I Am Home

by Immy



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Contest Entry, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immy/pseuds/Immy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is ready to tell John he is alive.  (Contest entry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Until I Am Home

Sherlock Holmes, the man of few emotions, was now discovering a few more. The doors to the restaurant opened and he entered, spotting John across the room.

Nervous, exited, anxious, prepared.

His pace stayed steady, fearing that if the slowed down for even a moment his legs would not carry him the rest of the way. He revised everything he planed to tell John. He was ready for anything he had to say. But he was hardly ready for the person sitting across from him

Scared, hurt, shaking, unprepared.

Mary leaned across the table and picked up another piece of bread. “Stop it,” she giggled as John raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m a grown woman, I can have as much bread as I want. You’re not my mother.”

“But it will spoil your dinner,” John replied in a mock-patronizing tone. The two laughed and Mary looked defiantly at John as she spread a thin layer of butter.

“So what’s the special occasion?” she started after swallowing a bite of her bread. “It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“We go to restaurants all the time.”

“Yes, but I can’t cook to save my life and we usually go after we both finish double shifts and can barely lift a menu, let alone a pot,” she stopped to take another bite of her bread.

Mary looked away for a moment to contemplate the wine list beside her. John watched the light from the chandeliers above them dance across her hair. Never in his life had he seen such bright blond hair, like golden threads flowing off her shoulders and down her back. John smiled, wondering how such a beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman had agreed to be with him. The little box in his jacket pocket felt heavier than ever.

Mary looked up and smiled, handing him the menu and pointing at the wine she decided would be best. He nodded and looked down at the menu himself. A gasp from his date made him snap back to attention.

“John, look at me,” she whispered and reached both her hands across the table for his.

“Mary, are you okay–”

“Hush, John, just look at me and listen.”

John looked her in the eye. “Alright.”

“Good, now do exactly what I tell you. Don’t talk.” John nodded wearily. “Take a deep breath.” He did. “Now before I tell you anything, I want you to promise that you will not scream or swear or break anything.”

“All right, but when have I ever –”

“You have to promise.”

“Yes, I promise,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. He smiled at her and squeezed her hands, which she was gripping like a life-preserver in the middle of an ocean.

“Okay,” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Look across the room and tell me that I am not going insane.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” she whispered.

John turned his head curiously. His gaze flicked around the room for a moment and fell on a familiar face.

Confusion, pain, anger, disbelief.

John looked away and stared at Mary. He nodded at her and pursed his lips while she did the sign of the cross for the first time since her father was in the hospital.

Sherlock walked to the edge of their table between the two of them. John looked up at him, speechless. Mary continued to mutter prayers that John knew she had not recited since she was a girl. Finally, as Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, Mary stood.

“You horrid man,” she said in an angry whisper. She walked to the side of the table and stood inches from Sherlock, making him turn completely and look at her. “You bastard. You monster. You… you fucker!” Mary’s eyes were getting red, but she continued. “You were dead!” Her voice started to raise. “He was your best friend! He was your only friend, you bastard!” People at tables near by were starting to look at them. “Do you have any idea…” Her voice tailed off and a tear went rolling down her cheek. Her jaw set and she wiped the tear away before slapping Sherlock across the face. A few people at nearby tables gasped Mary turned and rushed out the front door.

Sherlock turned to John as she left and looked at him pleadingly. He opened his mouth to talk but John stood and held up his hand. “I think Mary covered everything I have to say.” He said with a hint of pain in his voice before starting to follow behind her.

“John, please, I want to –” But John cut him off again.

“You want to what? Tell me the story of how you abandoned me? How you didn’t trust me? Or do you want to tell me how you did it so I can compliment you on your genius?” John was trying to stay calm, but was failing horribly. “Well it’s not happening, Sherlock! I don’t want to hear it anymore!” 

He tried to leave but Sherlock stood in his way. John put his hand roughly on Sherlock’s chest to push him away, but Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” John ripped his arm away from Sherlock and walked swiftly out the door. Sherlock walked after him, not bothering to retrieve his coat before chasing him into the cool night air. It was warm for a night in February, but he could still see his breath as he looked around frantically for John.

He was already across the street with Mary on his arm. They were beginning to walk down a lit path through the park. Sherlock ran across the street, a car just skimming his pant leg. “John!” he shouted after them. He stood at the entrance to the walking path. “John?” he called, his usual calm voice soaked in desperation. “John, I’m sorry!”

John’s quick pace stopped entirely and Mary stumbled to a halt with him. He let go of her arm and walked straight up to him and looked him in the eye before winding up and punching him in the same place Mary had slapped delivered her slap. Sherlock fell to the ground but sat up immediately, not wanting John to leave before he could speak. He propped himself on his hands and sat on the cold gravel path.

“You’re sorry?’ John asked. Sherlock heard his voice crack.

Sherlock did not stand up. He stayed there to make himself inferior to John. He stayed so John would feel higher up than him. He stayed so that John would not leave him there.

“Yes, John, I’m sorry. I am sorry. Are you happy? I’m sorry!”

At first John did not answer. Sherlock waited for some sort of reply. He waited for anything. But the only thing that came were tears. John covered his eyes and started crying heavily. Sherlock tried to stand up, but realized that John was already sitting down on the ground across from him.

The sound of crunching gravel rang out and a moment later Mary was at John’s side, on her knees and holding his shoulders. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were still red. Her eyes widened a bit. Mary glared at Sherlock, not in a nasty way, but as if she were calling him.

He looked confused, so Mary held out her hand for him. He barely flinched before grabbing it and getting pulled over to them. He fell sideways and then to his knees so that he was just inches from John’s side. Mary pulled his hand around John’s back and then griped Sherlock’s shoulder before placing her head on John’s.

John had stopped crying and this point. Sherlock’ heart had stopped raising. Mary’s fists had unclenched. They sat there on the cold path, Sherlock and Mary on either side of John, in a tight, comforting embrace.

Safe, welcomed, comforted, alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope it pleases your eyes and helps fill the S3 void a bit!


End file.
